Title: Hurt

Author's note: this is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please be kind (but honest!). I love to read and I have recently been frequenting the RB board, but that does not automatically mean I can actually write. So, feedback is much appreciated.

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, who reads these things anyway? But I'm a herd follower, so here you go. NO-I-DO-NOT-OWN-ROOKIE-BLUE.

Normally liquor was his ticket to oblivion. Not to say he was an alcoholic, because that would imply he couldn't control himself. But whenever something just got to him too much, Sam just wanted everything to go away. Like tonight, when he found that girl in the basement. Dead, with a contorted, frightened look on her face. It was burned into his mind. He would never forget those unblinking eyes. The poor kid had died alone, with no loved one to comfort her, because he had been too late…

It hit him harder than he'd anticipated. He couldn't help but notice that these days everything seemed like a race he couldn't win, an adversary he couldn't outrun. No amount of good he did was able to compensate for that dreadful feeling that consumed him when he failed. Sam gulped down more of his scotch, relishing in the burning sensation in his throat and the increasing cloudy one in his head.

Jerry had offered to keep him company, but all he wanted to do now was be alone in some place with no memories. Then the unmistakable sound of a ringtone filled the room. It was only so irritating so he would be forced to pick it up, thus ending his misery. If only he had a button to end his pain now…

"Swarek," he said, his voice rough. He hadn't even checked for caller ID. Whoever it was, he would keep it short and blow him or her off.

"Hey." The sound of that voice got his heart beating a fraction of a second faster.

"Andy?" It had occurred to him that he was using her last name less and less frequent. But he didn't want to think about what that might mean.

"Yeah. We would have been having this conversation face to face if you'd been home, but.."

Surprised, Sam got up from his slumped position on the bed. "You're at my house?"

"I was. Knocked 3 times. Then I remembered you're not nocturnal in such a way you require everything to be as dark as Dracula's coffin." She cleared her throat. "Are you okay?" The joking tone was completely lost now. He could hear the sounds of the city through the phone and closed his eyes, picturing his rookie on the other end of the line.

"Yeah." Trademark smirk in place. Only this time he couldn't even convince himself. He could hear a sigh on the other side, then nothing. He licked his lips.

"No." It was barely a whisper. Sam didn't like to admit weakness. He was the go happy cop who could handle anything. Except tonight.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." He remembered how they had exchanged the same conversation, only it ended in such a different way.

"You know, I have this friend." Sam closed his eyes, just concentrating on her voice. He didn't care about where this was going, only that she was talking. "Stubborn bastard. But he made good points. Like how partners are supposed to be there for eachother. Something about having eachothers backs no matter what. But I guess like Oscar Wilde said, good advice is only meant to be passed on."

Sam chuckled despite himself, and somehow the dewy hotelroom seemed a little brighter. Letting his mind go free was a mistake, because in a flash he was back in that filthy basement, pointing his gun at that creep…

"I almost crossed the line." That was what bothered him the most. It was the first time he'd lost control of himself and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

"What happened?" There was no judgment in her voice. Just genuine concern. She could have just accepted the facts, mutter something that was supposed to be comforting and leave it at that. The fact she didn't touched him.

"I…found the missing girl. But we were too late. Just by what could have been only a few hours. And the sight of her….it was just horrendous…" he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. "And then I found him—the guy who did that to her. I almost pulled the trigger." His left hand was flailing like the weatherman's. How could he describe the feeling wanting to kill someone?

"You were protecting yourself."

"No, I wasn't. He had already surrendered, jabbering on about his innocence." Sam stared straight ahead until the damaged wall of his room had become blurry and smooth. "But I didn't care. All I saw was that poor girl and I just wanted to kill him. I kept thinking to myself I could shoot him and call it self defense. I would have probably gotten away with it."

"What stopped you?"

"Shaw came in. I couldn't risk the shot." He could have said his moral code had stopped him. But though Andy would probably have believed it-she still thought he was a good guy- he couldn't sell it to himself.

"That doesn't make you a bad person, Sam. It just proves you're a human being."

He got up to pace through the room, though the haze in his head added a sway to his movements.

"How does it make me any different from the murderer I wanted to kill?" That was his biggest fear. Becoming what he hated.

"Because a murderer would have taken the shot anyway. Because your actions are out of love and dedication to the people in this city. Because you cared about that girl."

He had to give it to her. She sounded so confident he wanted to believe it.

"That doesn't make it right." His voice was flat, void of emotion. He was exhausted, the last energy in his reserves flowing out of him.

"Where are you staying? I'll come over." She suddenly demanded, probably alarmed by his response.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm a big boy McNally. I can handle myself." The clipped tone was intended to make her back off.

"That has nothing to do with it." Now it was her turn to get snippy.." I'm your partner and I want to be there for you. Your problems are my problems."

He appreciated the sentiment, but it only made him more persistent. "McNally, Lethal Weapon references aside, remember what happened last time when we tried to talk in a situation very similar to this?" Childish as it may be, he still hadn't really gotten over that. And nothing like a day as today to dig up past hurt.

It went silent on the other side and he briefly wondered if she hung up on him. "Sam, I know I hurt you with…the way I handled things."

"Damn right I was hurt," he mumbled, instantly regretting saying those words the moment they came out. Alcohol sure made people talk.

"Look…you were there for me when I needed you. You put your trust in me when no-one else would. Please let me come over and be there for you."

Sam swallowed hard. He knew that confession took a lot from her. Andy wasn't one to admit any kind of sentimental weakness. But it also raised an important question.

"Andy, I don't want you to come out of obligation." He did things for people because he wanted to, not because he expected something in return. "Besides, nothing really happened. I just have to get over it, that's all."

"Sam, I want to come because I care. I would be with you already if I had known where you're staying."

He was honestly taken aback by that. He knew she did care about him, but he wasn't sure how much, especially with the recent awkwardness going on. But as good as having her company sounded, he knew he should decline, for both their sakes.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"Why not?" A hint of agitation entered her shaky voice. She probably thought he was going to do something to himself.

"Because I don't trust myself around you."

Ages seemed to pass by. Sam absently tapped his fingers on the table.

"I have enough trust in you for the both of us. Now give me the address!"

There was something in her voice that made him almost automatically comply. She would make a great leader someday. Still, something held him back. He cracked his knuckles.

"What about Luke?"

"What about him?"

"Does he know you want to come over here?"

"He knows he can't stop me."